Lin An felt a sharp pang of regret.

It hit him fast—he’d wronged Xu Qinghuan. Sure, she’d been leading him on lately, but Lin An knew she loved him. And he… had still done *that*.

Last night had flashed by in an instant. Before he could resist, Xiao Chacha seized control. For a first-timer, she showed zero hesitation: no blush, eyes locked boldly on his, owning her desire as her slender waist swayed gently.

But Lin An knew better. Whether Xiao Chacha was truly a lesbian meant nothing to him—why had he even leaned in? Truth was, he’d been spineless. Heat of the moment. Both hazy from drink. Half-resisting, half-yielding… he gave in. Waking up? Pure regret.

Deep, heavy regret.

Thankfully, they’d set clear terms beforehand. That eased his guilt. He trusted Xiao Chacha would honor it—she simply lacked the capacity to love.

Still… sleeping together was sleeping together. He’d betrayed Xu Qinghuan.

Then came the second regret.

He’d returned the 10,000 yuan. Not because he cared about the money—Lin An wasn’t greedy. He regretted *returning* it. Keeping it would’ve felt neutral. Returning it? Suspicious. He sighed inwardly, quickening his pace after stepping from the taxi. School was calling.

He was cutting it close.

At the gate, he froze.

A girl stood waiting. White shirt, soft pink plaid skirt, cute twin tails framing a petite frame. Her expression: serene, sweet.

Gray clouds dimmed the world—but she was a faint light piercing the gloom, illuminating his eyes.

Lin An slowed, approaching Xu Qinghuan in a daze.

Her gaze held his.

"Morning," she murmured.

Before she could ask, Lin An rushed to explain: "Remember that gaming companion from last time? She asked to meet. Got drunk—I walked her home. Too late to return, so I slept in the next room."

Xu Qinghuan studied his face, searching his eyes. One second. Two. Seeing no tension, she exhaled softly.

"Got it. Just… drink less next time. Alcohol causes trouble."

"Mm-hmm." Lin An nodded lightly, falling into step behind her. Their first time walking into school together—and both late.

He caught her faint fragrance, mingling with osmanthus blooms from campus trees. Refreshing. He almost spoke… then stopped.

*Cheating men overcompensate. Talk too much. Act too sweet.* He’d just realized it. Silence was safer.

If he acted off, Xu Qinghuan would notice. Last time with Su Yuejin, she’d forgiven him—she knew she’d led him on too long. But lately? She hadn’t. One more slip… and real anger would follow.

They crossed the empty playground. Morning readings hummed from classrooms. Down the corridor, they parted at their doors.

Lin An tapped lightly.

The teacher opened it. "Sorry," Lin An mumbled, cheeks warm. "Overslept."

"Just be on time next time." No scolding—his grades earned leeway. Back at his desk, morning chants buzzed. Exhausted, he pinched his arm hard. *Stay awake.*

Not because he couldn’t sleep. But to learn the lesson. A mistake was a mistake. Face it. This wasn’t contradiction—it was resolve. Lin An had always wanted to be *right*.

So he stayed awake all morning, reflecting. Finally, peace settled: *It happened. Never again.*

Only then did he collapse into sleep, skipping lunch. Alone in the quiet classroom.

He slept soundly.

...

Waking groggy, hunger hit first. Skipping two meals did that.

He checked the time—forty minutes. Unsure if cafeteria food remained, he stood, face slightly pale. At the door, he spotted Luo Shuishui by the railing, watching the rain-damp playground.

Her eyes: gentle, yet hollow.

Rain fell in clean beads. Wind lifted stray strands of her hair. She turned. Vacant eyes focused on his profile. A light tug on his sleeve.

"Awake?"

"Mm… yeah. Checking the cafeteria."

"Sold out. And it’s raining. You heading out like that?"

"Yeah." He nodded dazedly.

She patted his shoulder. "Wait here."

She returned with a transparent umbrella—just big enough for two. Tilting her face up: "Let’s go. I’ll come with you."

"I can go alone…"

"Mm-hmm? Then I’m coming."

"Alright." Lin An gave a wry smile. Pale-faced, he followed under the shared shelter. Few crossed the playground. Slanting rain kissed their skin, cool and crisp.

"Last night… which girl did you sleep with?" Luo Shuishui teased, voice light.

Lin An froze—*joking, right? Like the lipstick comment?* He opened his mouth—

"You carry a different girl’s scent. Not Su Yuejin." Her tone turned clear, certain.

The words silenced the rainy world.

He turned, stunned. "Are you… a dog?"

"…"

Her eyes widened. So did his. "I mean—your nose is just *too* sharp—"

"It’s always been sensitive. Wish it weren’t. So… you really did something strange last night."

They reached the cafeteria—empty trays confirmed it. Lin An turned to leave, but Luo Shuishui tugged his hand to the window, flashing a sweet smile.

"Auntie Chen, one more serving of stir-fried pork with green peppers, please?"

The auntie nodded warmly. *Since when was staff this kind?* Lin An wondered.

"She used to nanny for my family," Luo Shuishui explained softly. "Dad arranged her job here."

"Your dad…?"

"Mm. This school? Owned by my family." She stated it calmly, like mentioning the weather.

"Huh??"

"How else could I block Su Yuejin’s class transfer?" She shrugged, guiding him to a quiet table. Chin propped on her palm, gaze drifting, then settling on him with a tiny pout. "So… what *naughty* thing did you do?"

Eyes bright with curiosity.

Lin An shook his head. "Can I not say?"

"You can. But you look regretful. Maybe I could help."

"Regretful? How?"

"You stumbled in exhausted this morning. Stayed awake all class—pinching yourself awake whenever you nodded off. Like wrestling guilt. Plus… that scent. And now? Clearly regret." She smiled faintly. Obvious.

"Yeah… I’ve made peace with it. Still won’t say."

"Fine, fine. But if I ever meet her near you? I might recognize the scent. Don’t worry—I won’t interfere."

"Luo Shuishui… are you a little dog?"

Her eyes flashed reproachful annoyance. "If I were," she murmured, "I’d bite you right now."

They chatted softly. Soon, the meal arrived. Luo Shuishui placed the steaming plate and rice before him, chin resting on her hand. Her gaze softened—warm, quiet, utterly without anger.

Watching him.

Just watching.